Minor Matters.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XXVI, Issue XIV, 6 April 1901, Page 632

Minor Matters.

Wky They Leva the Imperials A Capetown colonial sends us the following story from South Africa, with the remark, "Why we South 'African colonials love the Imperial officers.” We can only say that we know the Imperial officer as a type very well, and that if the story is true, and reached the ears of the gentleman's brother officers, he would get some very plain speaking from them, aud such a wigging from his C.O. that he would not be likely to behave like a snob again. He was an Imperial officer, and he was enjoying a drink at the New Club on the Rand, when entered a trooper volunteer, who asked for a refresher. Quoth the officer to the barman, “Do you serve troopers with drink in this club?” which placed that official in a quandary. To his rescue came the trooper with the forcible observation that, in spite of the fact that he had been serving in the ranks, he was a member of the club of which the Imperial officer was a guest, and then the air was thick with haw-haws. The Queen's Courtship. Her Majesty’s courtship was by no means an ordinary one. It was necessary. writes a contemporary, that she should speak first to Prince Albert, and she paved the way for her avowal with maidenly tact aud skill. On the Prince's return to Ehrenburg in 1839 the first thing that met his eyes on entering his apartments was a portrait of his eousin, Queen Victoria, which she had sent him. This was the first intimation of what was coming. A little later, when he visited England. Her Majesty showed him further marks of regard. At a ball she presented him with a bouquet. The Prince's uniform coat had no button-hole, but he gallantly pulled out his pen-knife and made a slit in the cloth, where the bouquet found a secure resting-place for the remainder of the evening. At last Queen Victoria “came to the point.” She asked the Prince how he had enjoyed his visit to England. “Very much,” he replied. Her Alajesty got no further on that occasion, but very soon after she repeated the question, and received a similar answer. Again she stopperl short of the grea't step, but once more she found an opportunity to say. “How do you like England?” The Prince replied in glowing terms. “Then.'’ said the maiden Queen, “it rests with you to make it your home!" The Prince understood." and so the matter was settled. Her Majesty subsequently formally announced her choice to the Privy Council. Some one asked her at the close of the Council. “Did Your Majesty not feel embarrassed?" Not at all?’ she replied; “as for the announcement to the Council, I regarded that as a mere matter of business; but I must confess I felt considerable shvness in making my intentions known to Prince Albert." Two Adelaide Brokers’ Little Joke. They have many choice ways in Adelaide of celebrating great occasions. On the evening of Proclamation Day some lively spirits met the steamroller on its road home after a hard day’s work. They invited the men in charge to take some refreshment, and, ns it was a steaming hot night the men were only too glad. On coming out of the hotel, after spending a pleasant 20 minutes, they found the roller gone. What happened was not known till next day. It appears that two of the party slipped away (one was a well-known broker), and boarding the engine, turned on full steam ahead. When they tried to stop her they found they did not know bow. Jumping off they left her and cleared for home, and away she snorted at a good solid ten miles an hour. Finally, she ran into Government-house gates, and knocked a few corners off them, to the intense astonishment of the sentry, whose challenge. "Who goes there?” was completely disregarded. The roller was finally taken in charge by the police, and removed to the city lock-up on the charge of “insulting behaviour in a public thoroughfare."

IAOAFiOt. A couple of tourists who were journeying on horseback in the rural district of the south in America, had ridden many miles, when they came to a small log cabin, out of which children of all sizes and ages came swarming like bees from a hive. The tourists were tired and ravenously hungry. Hailing an old negro at the cabin gate they told him that they had come to take dinner with him. “Yo’ is welcum, geminen!" he said. “I ain’t got much ter eat, but I’ll do the ve’y bes’ I kin fo’ yo*, gemmen.” Then, raising his voice to a shrill yell, he said: “Hi, yo’, Judas Iscariot, yo' run catch a chicken fas’ ez yo’ laigs kin carry yo’." “What do you call that boy?” asked one of the tourists. ‘•Judas Iscariot, sah.” "What did you ever .give him such a name as that for •’ “Dat’s a Bible name, sah, an’ it has a meanin’. All de Bible names has a meanin', sah. Ise got fo’teen, en dey's all got Bible names, case de Hible names has a meanin’, sah." “What Js ' the meanin’ of Judas Iscariot?" The old man was verv reticent about giving further information, and it required a good deal of persuasion before he finally said: "Well, I’ll tell yo’. sah. Hit's like dis. Io see I d had fo'teen chillun befo’ Judas Iscariot was bawn. an' fo'teen chillun is a mighty big fam’ly fo' a po' man ter raise en keer fo'. ’thout habin no mo’, so when Judas Iscariot came erlong. I gib ’im dat name, caze you kiiow de Bible hit say it’d be bettah fo’ Judas Iscariot if*he’d nebbah been bawn.—“Detroit Free Press.” The Boy Smoker. The boy smoker is a nuisance that ought to be ended or mended, (savs a writer in the “Australasian” with whom the “Graphic” cordially agrees). He does not smoke for enjoyment but because he thinks it manly.* Really, it is for the same reason that a woman gets a new dress, to make her sister women envious. When I was a schoolk>s I once found a meerschaum pipe, case and all. At 4 o’clock the whole school used to.follow me to a secluded spot, and watch me fill the pipe with bird’sreye tobacco, and smoke and spit till the tobacco was done. Of course, it always made me more or less ill but to see the envious faces round me was reward enough. Sometimes, in a condescending moot], I would pass the meerschaum round for a draw or two, always, however, following it carefully, in ease of accidents. There were no cigarettes in those days, and we had to be content with "brown paper, or pieces of cane, both burning to the tongue and horrible to the taste, but we stuck to them, although thev made us unhappy and as vellow as Chinamen. ♦ ♦ » A Pearl Farm. There is only one pearl farm in the world, aud it is at Torres Straits, at the northmost point of Australia. It belongs to Mr James Clark, of Queensland. the “king of pearl fishers," who stocked it with 150.000 pearl oysters some years ago, and who now employs as many as 1500 men. including 200 divers, a*nd 250 vessels in gathering the pearls. The farm covers over 5000 square miles of shallow water, in which the shells grow verv large and that divers can operate. The pearls in London, -and the harvest runs 40,000 and npvrard< every year. The Late Queen and Sailor Grog Of the late Queen’s fondness for the Navy, the premier service, there are many examples, and some of them humorous ones. Her Majesty sipping the men's grog from n ship’s basin presented on his knee by the ca pt a ip. in full dress uniform must have beeu a curious contrast of things, as must have been Her Majesty’s attempt to drink some of the soup from the galley with an iron spoon, which burnt ijer mouth. Prince Albert, when he first tasted shin's biscuit at the victualling yard, thought it so good that he pnt some of it in his pocket for the Roynl table.

Bather Neat. It was a nernfi j to ball, and one of the older members of the club had made bold enough to introduce to the reigning beauty the junior player. The lady was indignant. “May I have the pleasure of a dance?” asked the juvenile. “I don’t dance with babies,” was the reply. "Very sorry, I'm sure," said the undefeated youngster. ‘‘l never v.-tof it.” But he didn’t get his dance. Undertaker and Doctor. Telephone wires getting crossed are still causing all sorts of awkward situations. A suburban house-father wanted Doctor Dash, and rang him up. A reply eame promptly, and the house-father continued, “Doctor, can you come at once?" “This isn’t Doctor Dash's, this is Beryl the undertaker's.” Then came a pause, followed by “But I do a lot of work for Doctor Dash!” A True Turf Story from Australia. Away back in the early days of horse-racing in Melbourne an incident happened on Caulfield Racecourse which caused no end of fun at the time, and as I don't think it has ever found its way into our home, it may be worth telling here. Amongst other items on the list at one race meeting was what was known as a post-entry race, in which there must be three starters or there would be no race. Now a certain Mr G , cab proprietor and livery-stable keeper in Melbourne, had entered a horse for this race, and considered it such a “dead cert.” that he backed him to quite- o lively tune; most of his cabbies having a little bit on the horse too. The time for the race drew near, but as yet there were but two horses entered, and Mr G — grew anxious lest there should be no race sifter all. Then, when the minutes were getting very few before the starting time, a happy thought struck him. Rushing out to the cab rank, he called one of his cabbies, helped him to unharness his old crock, rushed the pair round, entered the horse, and in a-few minutes cabbie was mounted and on his way to the starter. Thus the situation seemed saved, and Mr G- beamed ns he saw his second horse amble off, cabbie having got instructions to make the pace while the old horse lasted. The bell rang, and, still smiling at his own ’cuteness. Mr G— saw the three horses flash past the stand, cabbie leading. Half-way round the did horse had improved his distance by a length, and as they entered the straight it became painfully evident to Mr G that he was likely- to win the race, but with the wrong horse, for cabbie was sitting down and riding for all he was worth, while the old horse seemed as fresh as paint, and kept the lead at a canter. Bursting with rage, and hopping about like a dancing dervish. Mr G yelled, “Fall off. you fool! Fall off. I say!” It was no use, cabbie did not hear, or was too much of a true s|K>rt to let a mere owner’s word stop him from winning on his merits, so he flashed past the post an easy winner, while the horse that carried the money finished a very- poor second. Words could hardly describe the scene that ensued a. few minutes later when Mr G met eabbie, nor the amusement it caused, when the facts became known. No Superstition In Our Days. The rosy, wilful, three-days- married little Queen Wilhelmina has, we read, carefully stowed away a sealed flagon of “Holy water- from the. River Jordan,” with-which to baptise her first chid oh its arrival. How fortunate. ♦ hat child will be —lucky- little royal brat not to have been born of Hindoo parents to grow up with a ridiculous belief in the sanctity of the Ganges. * * * Slightly Mixed. Improving the occasion, the Sunday School teacher determined to test her scholars on the subject of Balaam's ass. "Now," she said, “can any of you tell me what happened to Balaam's ass?" “Yus, miss. I can.” “Well, Johnny Jones. go on.” “Balaam's ass fell into the pit on the Sabbath day, and liftin’ up his voice cried out. like a man, and the chief priest and elders pulled him out, and sent him on his way rejoicia*.**

Q— tseyrt a Pats e. Dr. Z., a very busy man, was called in to see a patient, who, however, showed no special symptoms of illness. “Stay in bed till I call again,” was Dr. Z.’s brief and peremptory command; and away he hurried tn an important case. " His mind filled with urgent matters, Dr. Z. forgot to note his visit and directions, and the whole of the circumstances escaped his memory. About a fortnight later the forgotten patient wrote and asked Dr. Z. when he was coming to see him again, as he was tired of staying in bed. The doctor lost no time in call*ng'. hut being a long-headed man. disposed of the incident by say-ing. with true professional tact," “Better stay another day in.bed, and then you will be all right.” Not an Anonymous One that Time. A large number of anonymous letters and post-cards have been going through the Victorian post recently, says an Australian contemporary. A prominent Government official was aware of this, and when he received a letter in a female bandwriting saving that someone, whom we will call ‘‘Flossie Symons,” who was lying ill in bed, would «be glad if he would call and see her at a certain address, lie simply- called and threw the missive into the waste-paper basket. After a few days the letter was followed by another, expressing surprise that he had not called, and hinting in a vague way that it might save trouble and expense if he did so at once. She was still ill in bed. This missive was disregarded like the other.' After the lapse of a week or two came a letter from a firm of solicitors demanding, on behalf of “Miss Flossie Symons," the sum of £2OO damages from his department. She had been seriously injured by the neglect of one of the employees, and as he lied taken no notice of letters asking him to see her, with a view to an amicable settlement, she had been obliged to resort to the law. That official has resolved that in future he will read more carefully any letters that reach him, even though they are written by some unknown female. * * ♦ True Story of a Sea Captain. “It's my birthday to-morrow.” said Captain C. Dang to his steward, “and you can put some plums in the cabin duff, but don t use many, and put them all in one end. I can’t afford to give the mate plum duff.” Blums in the duff to-dav, steward? asked the mate, next morning. "les, sir,” said the steward, “but you won't get any. they’re all going the skipper's end.” Later on when the duff came on the table, just as the captain was going to help the mate to duff, the mate quietly turned the dish, saying as he did so, "That’s a curious bit of old ware, captain.” “les,” said the captain, as he restored the dish to its former position, “I’ve had that bit of old ware for a long time.” ‘’May 1 ask, ’. said the mate, onee more turning the dish, “where von got that bit of old ware?’! “I think, if 1 recollect right.” said the captain, as he turned the blank end of the pudding towards the mate, “that I got it somewhere up the Straits.” “I thought,” remarked the mate, as he slewed the plum end towards him, that it was not made in Germany.” "That’ll do, mate.” said the skipper, “that’ll do, let the bit of old ware alone, and I'll eut the duff fore and aft.”